His Realm
by CatChester
Summary: [Jaguar!Tom] As a partner in one of the biggest international crime syndicates, Tom Hiddleston is at the top of his game, but his perfectly ordered life is threatened when an ex comes calling, needing his help. She is the only woman he's ever loved but she broke his heart. She left because she thought his career was monstrous so when she asks him to commit murder for her, Tom tells
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One **

She gathered her wits about her when her name was called, then followed the Personal Assistant into the lion's den.

The carpets were so plush that she felt as if she sank a few centimetres with each step, but she held her spine ram rod straight and refused to let the expensive décor unnerve her. She was good at hiding nerves, she'd made a career of it.

"Mr Hiddleston, Miss Anastasia Sheridan, QC, to see you." The receptionist announced from the doorway.

The lion looked up from his desk, his smug smile kept reasonably in check as he looked her over.

"Hello, Tom."

"You look good," he replied as he stood and came around his massive desk, clasping her hand in a business-like manner.

She didn't respond to his compliment.

"I have to say, I was surprised to see you in my appointments diary." Tom gestured to a cluster of chairs to one side of his office and she made her way over to them. "Can I get you something to drink?"

"No, thank you." Even although she felt as nervous as a cat at a dog show, she kept her voice cool and even.

"Thank you, Denise," Tom told his PA, who disappeared with a nod, closing the door behind herself.

Tom seated himself opposite her, taking his usual, wide legged stance, as if he owned the place. Which in this case, he did.

"I gather you made silk," he said, referring to her being introduced as a QC, or Queens Council. In layman's terms, it was as high as a lawyer could go, save for becoming a judge.

"I did."

"It's what you always wanted," he said, although there was a touch of bitterness too his tone. Her career ambitions had been part of the reason they had broken up, all those years ago.

"Yes."

When she didn't elaborate, Tom moved the conversation on. "So, what brings you here, after all these years?" he asked.

"I find myself in need of your… services," she admitted.

"Oh?"

"Can I talk freely?" she asked, wary of prying ears, even although he was the one who needed to fear such things far more than she did.

"Of course," his smile widened.

Ana took a deep breath then as calmly as if she was placing an order for pizza, she said, "I need you to kill someone."

Tom laughed, which momentarily nonplussed her.

"You think I'm a hit man?" he asked.

"I would have said 'assassin'."

He gave her that awful head tilt look, the one that said, 'I expected better of you'.

"I'm not wearing a wire," she stated baldly.

"I know," he agreed. "Security clear everyone who enters the building."

Why wouldn't he help her? "Look, I _know_ you can have people killed, Tom, and I'm not here asking for any special favours, I'll pay you. Whatever the going rate is, I'll pay it. Just tell me where to wire the money, and it's yours."

Suddenly Tom didn't appear to be finding her visit so enjoyable any longer.

"I don't need your money," he said but his voice wasn't angry, instead it was ice cold, which reminded her of their last conversation. It was the only time she had ever been afraid of him. "I don't need anything from a condescending bitch like you, Ana. Had you come here with even an ounce of humility, even an attempt at treating me as your equal, rather than at best a last resort and at worse, not something to be scraped off your shoe, I might have at least heard you out. As it is, I make more money in a week that you'll make in your entire life, and I have better things to do with my time than to play your games."

He got up and left the office, leaving the door open in his wake.

Ana stared after him, slack jawed and terrified that she had failed.

She'd had one shot, and she'd blown it.

Denise appeared in the doorway, her professional expression never slipping as she smiled at Ana.

"Let me show you out, Miss Sheridan."

Ana followed meekly, her eyes darting around for any sign of Tom, although she didn't know what she would do if she saw him.

* * *

><p>"No, please, do come in," Mark Strong said as Tom stormed into his office and headed straight for the drinks tray.<p>

Mark's PA hovered in the doorway, unable to tell his partner to leave but well aware that his entering her boss's office without being announced was a breach of protocol. Mark approached her.

"Why don't you take a long lunch, Mary, be back at 2." His tone let her know that she wasn't in trouble.

She nodded then left, and Mark closed the door behind her, turning just in time to see Tom down two fingers of scotch in one go.

"Drinking during work? Have the Chinese taken a hit out on you again?"

Tom didn't turn around but his posture did slump. "Ana came to see me," he said softly, but each word laced with pain.

"It wasn't a joyous reunion then," he surmised.

Tom gave a hollow bark of laughter and finally turned to face his friend.

"She swaggered in. acting like Little Miss Perfect, clearly hating to even be in the same room with me, then she said she wanted to hire me to kill someone."

"Ouch," Mark sympathised.

Tom cast a longing look at the whisky decanter before he turned away and Mark let out a silent sigh of relief; Tom had been such a mess when Ana left him the first time and he was almost afraid his friend would sink back into the same bad habits.

Mark got them both a bottle of water from the refrigerator and handed Tom one as they sat on the couches.

"I wonder who she wanted killed," Mark mused.

"I wonder the same thing," Tom admitted. "Unfortunately, she got me so riled up that I had to leave before I could let her see that she was getting to me."

Mark nodded sympathetically. When he was just starting out and had met his wife, there were a few tense weeks once she discovered what he did for a living. Just the thought that she might have left him for good was enough for him to know the depth of pain that Tom must have felt.

"Maybe you should take the rest of the day off," Mark suggested.

Tom was about to argue but Mark cut him off.

"Your head's not in the game when you're like this. Fuck a beautiful woman, hell, fuck a dozen if you have to, go for a run, press some weights, go gambling, hit something; I'll even let you go for a spa weekend and promise not to make jokes; just do whatever you have to work this off, then come back on Monday, ready to kick some ass and take some names."

Tom found a smile for his friend.

"You're right."

"I usually am," Mark grinned.

"Do you want me to tell Ben?"

"I'll take care of that, you just have a good weekend. And no moping, I'll know."

Tom nodded and got to his feet. "Thanks. I'll see you Monday."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Ana wasn't a fool and as the elevator ascended to the penthouse, she knew that he knew she was coming. She just didn't know what to expect. She had half been hoping that he wouldn't be home on a Saturday night, but he was and she was desperate.

She had left her usual defences behind tonight. Her wavy auburn hair was loose around her shoulders, her expensive silk and wool suit had been exchanged for jeans and a baggy jumper and her flawless makeup which had been hiding her dark circles in the court room (and yesterday had hidden her red eyes too) was gone, wiped clean.

She would be laid bare before him, exposed to his scrutiny, because there was no other way.

Her only defence was the clear plastic wallet she carried, and her arms that held it to her chest, defensivly. Of course, her posture was a big clue that she was as nervous as hell.

Although the lift stopped, the doors didn't open, probably waiting for Tom to use a key card or enter a code. As the seconds ticked on, she brought her thumb to her lips and bit on the end of her nail, a habit she had stopped but that seemed determined to return now. Even weekly shellac manicured couldn't completely hide the damage she'd been doing.

Finally the doors opened and Tom stood there, his expression inscrutable.

"Back for more? I didn't take you for a masochist."

Tears pricked her eyes again and she blinked them back.

"Please, Tom, just hear me out."

He considered her for a long moment, his eyes taking in her signs of weakness, the red eyes and nose, the un-styled hair, her slumped shoulders… he catalogued her body language and after several long moments, gestured for her to step out.

"How do I know you aren't wearing a wire this time?" he demanded.

She was prepared for that and began by dropping the wallet and taking her boots off, passing them to him for him to inspect, then her socks, jeans and finally her jumper, until she was standing before him in nothing but a sheer bra and panty set that's he had worn specifically because they were see through. When he'd finished checking her clothes, she turned around, flicking her hair when she had her back to him, so he could see there was nothing there, then she turned to face him again.

She caught that predatory look in his eyes, the one that used to turn her on so much, and she lowered her eyes, afraid of what else she might see in his.

When he didn't say anything for a few minutes, she reached back to unhook her bra, wondering if he thought the underwire might be a bug, but he stopped her and threw her clothes back at her.

She dressed as quickly as she could, not bothering with her socks and boots yet, and she picked up the wallet.

"Speak," was all he eventually said, so she began.

"I didn't come to you because I needed a hit man, I'm not an idiot and I know how to use the dark web. I came to you because I need _you_. This is way over my head and I can't handle it alone." She blinked furiously, trying to hold back her tears. They wouldn't sway Tom anyway. "I'm sorry I acted like a bitch yesterday but that's my normal courtroom persona when I'm frightened, and you aren't the first to call me that."

"I frighten you?" he asked, in that ice cold tone once more.

She looked into his eyes and managed to hold his gaze. "You terrify me."

His featured morphed into disgust and she knew she'd said the wrong thing,

"No, Tom, please, I'm not afraid _of_ you, that's not what I mean. You terrify me because of how you make me feel. Even now, after all these years, I can hardly stand to think of you and… and how I hurt you," her voice trailed off towards the end.

"I was an innocent fool Tom, and I said some really cruel things to you, things I still hate myself for saying. The longer I practiced in the legal profession, the more clear it became that… well, that I was living in a fairy-tale and that the world wasn't the place I assumed it was. I've met a lot of monsters since I first became a junior barrister, and you don't even compare to them."

Tom seemed frozen and in true Ana style, she continued to ramble, filling in the silences.

"You don't know how many times I've thought of picking up the phone and calling you, apologising for everything that happened, but I was a coward. And I suppose I still am because it literally took a life or death situation for me to finally face the anger you feel for me and even then, I couldn't push past my pride to tell you 'I'm sorry'. And I am sorry, Tom, I really am."

Her tears were flowing freely now and she didn't care. Even if he used her pain to wound her further, she couldn't fall any further in her own eyes.

Tom wasn't a saint, but he wasn't the monster she had believed him to be either. Life, and her career, had taught her that while he was a predator, Tom wasn't evil. She had once called his standards 'a fucked up moral code that allowed him to lie to himself and sleep at night'.

She knew nothing back then.

"What do you mean, life or death?" he asked, his voice just a shade or two warmer, but hardly welcoming.

Ana wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her jumper and tried to string a coherent sentence together, to make him understand the depth of her fears.

"My sister," she began.

"Amy?" His voice warmed another few shades. He had always liked Amy.

Ana nodded. "She married a bastard of a man, a truly fucked up individual who treats her like a slave and-" Her words were choked off for a moment. "The things he does to her, Tom, they make my skin crawl just thinking about it, and I don't think she told me the truth of even half of it."

She found herself being guided by her shoulders, led deeper into his apartment and sat down on a leather couch. The décor here was more modern than at his offices, which projected an old world, classic sort of luxury. This penthouse, with its floor to ceiling glass windows, clean and easy lines, was more up to date but still warm.

Tom left her, heading for his decanters. "Go on," he urged.

"I didn't know anything was wrong," she admitted, "until just over a year ago, I thought she hated me. We'd argued about her husband back in the beginning, when they first met; I thought he was too old for her and there was something about him that I just didnt like, and she never seemed to forgive me for that. It turned out she wasn't angry with me, well, not any more, she'd been covering for him. He made her distance herself from everyone, you see. Our parents were easy enough, they never really cared, but her friends too and of course, me. She kept the pretence up because she was ashamed to admit I had been right, then because she was afraid to tell me, afraid of what he'd do to me if i tried to step in."

Tom reappeared and handed her a vodka on the rocks with a twist of lime and a small smile crossed her lips as she realised that he had remembered. She rarely drank spirits these days but back in college, this had been her favourite drink on her nights off from studying.

"Thank you," she said as Tom look a seat beside her, but keeping his distance from her.

"Why did she finally tell you?"

"She became pregnant. She knew she couldn't bring a child into their relationship and her fear made her write to me. I have a copy of her letter in here," she indicated the plastic wallet.

"You tell me."

"She only told me about the beatings at first, and how she was worried he'd hurt me or the baby if she left. She'd tried in the past, apparently, and he… well, now I know he beat her severely but in her letter, she just says he terrified her out of trying again, and threatened to kill her and anyone who helped her leave him. I've tried enough cases of women killed by their current or former partners, so I didn't take it lightly.

"I researched shelters and they told me to tell her to leave, to take nothing, and to go into a shelter. He controled her so much that she couldnt even send a letter without him reading it first, so she gave me the butler's home address to write to her, and he posted her letters to me. We arranged a day and time when I would come and pick her up, a day when he was out late so we'd have a bigger head start, and we did it. We got her away."

Ana took a long sip of her drink.

"Then what happened?" he asked.

"The shelter catalogued her injuries, took photographs, I paid for x-rays of the bones she said had been broken, anonymously, of course, then she travelled to another shelter, I think she passed through a few, sort of like an underground railroad for abused women, and even I couldn't know where she ended up. They passed my letters onto her, after reading them to make sure they really were from me, and there were no coded threats. I argued that it was all unnecessary but they insisted."

Ana took a deep, shuddering breath.

"He knew though, he knew I had been behind it, and he began harassing me. He tried to get me hounded out of my chambers, out of my job for the Crown Prosecution Service, but luckily my co-workers are also my friends. He had me arrested but my friends are almost all barristers or QCs, so they could never make anything stick. Then one night, he turned up at my door."

Ana bowed her head, almost as if she was ashamed of her memories.

"I would have told him," she whispered as her tears fell. "I was in so much pain, I would have told him anything just to make it stop but luckily, I didn't know."

His hand touched her shoulder, offering some comfort.

"What did he do?" Tom asked.

She opened the wallet and handed him a shief of pictures, held together with a paperclip, unwilling to relive that night.

He leafed the photographs. Her eyes were swollen almost shut, the surrounding tissue a dark, mottled purple. He flipped through the rest, his knuckles whitening in anger as similar angry bruises covered her stomach, a few on her chest, and many on her thighs and upper arms. Her wrists and ankles had been bound and there was chafing where she had stuggled, as well as a ring of bruising around her neck.

"Nothing was broken," she said. "One hairline fracture," she pointed at her left forearm, "but it healed quickly. I guess over the years, he learned exactly how hard he could hit and not do perminant damage."

"Why didn't you press charges?"

"Because he's untouchable." She looked into his eyes. "He's second in command of MI fucking 5, he knows where all the skeletons are buried, and they can't afford to let him be arrested. So they provided him with a cast iron alibi. They said I was out to get him,that I held a grudge. The police didn't believe I'd done that to myself but they couldn't break his alibi either, so they eventually concluded that I'd been assaulted by a stranger and saw the perfect opportunity to fit my brother-in-law up for the crime."

"I'm sorry," he sounded like he meant it, and his hand returned to her shoulder. "There's more, isn't there?"

"Everything would still have been fine but somehow, he found her. I don't know how, I don't know how they hid her to begin with, but I'm guessing he used GCHQ, or accessed NHS records, or her National Insurance Number or something, and he found her. I got a frantic call from the woman at the shelter, something about a police raid and Amy was arrested and her baby taken into care. Except there was no police raid that night and no arrests that fit Amy's description, and Social Services have no record of taking a child into care that night either. Maybe they were MI5 agents, or maybe he hired private security or military contractors to do it, I don't know, but he has her and more importantly, he has her baby. As long as he has Freddie, she'll never leave him. And he'll kill her, Tom, I know he will."

Finally she couldn't keep the sob from escaping and surprisingly, Tom pulled her into his arms, which was her undoing. She cried uncontrollably, letting the emotions that she had kept so closely pent up these last few weeks, loose.

Tom gently stroked her hair until she was finally cried out, and she was surprised at his patience with her. When he released her, she looked up into his eyes.

"I'll do _anything_ to keep them safe, Tom. _Anything_ at all." She hoped he understood the implications of her statement.

His face betrayed no emotion as he handed her a handkerchief.

"Thank you," she said, hoping her sincerity showed.

He didn't reply but while she wiped at her eyes and blew her nose. He took her glass and refilled it. She noticed he hadn't poured a drink for himself before, nor did he this time.

"What's his name?" he asked as he prepared her drink.

"Damian Wells."

"I have some calls to make," he said, passing her glass back to her. "Make yourself comfortable."

"Thank you, Tom."

A brief nod was the only acknowledgement he gave of her thanks. She didn't care, she would say it forever, until he believed how grateful she was.

* * *

><p>Tom closed and locked the door to his study, then he sat behind the desk and laid the envelope and its contents before him.<p>

Seeing Ana like that had turned his stomach and required all his strength to remain passive while looking through them.

It wasn't that he abhorred violence, he didn't; it was a very effective, if slightly crude, tool. It wasn't that he thought women were special and should never be touched in anger. Be believed that no one should be touched in anger but once the steam had cooled, pain was just as effective a bargaining chip with women as it was with men. It wasn't even the unwritten rule that upset him, the one that said families were untouchable, that innocent husbands, wives and children shouldn't pay the price for someone else's crime.

No, what bothered him was seeing this woman's face beaten.

It didn't matter that he hadn't seen her in ten years. It didn't matter that she had hurt him. It didn't matter that he had hated her for almost a third of his life.

The primitive part of his brain had screamed at him, 'No!'. Despite everything, his inner cave man still felt that she was his, and no one hurt what was his. _No one_.

The moment he had seen these pictures, Damien Wells death warrant had been signed.

Still, he needed to control his emotions, especially if he was going to ask Mark and Ben for help, so he laid the pictures out, side by side, and forced himself to become inured to them.

After a few minutes, he turned his chair away so he face the window, then he looked at the second collection of pages, containing Amy's pictures. Her injuries were easier to look at, both because Any didn't have the same claim on his heart that her sister did, and because her injuries were between a few days old, to scars that were so silver-white, they were likely years old. It was clear that the girl had endured horrific abuse though. Even her eyes were a different shape than he remembered, probably as a result of having been struck and the bone of the eye socket thickening each time it healed. Finally he looked through Amy's leters, which had been arranged in chronologial order, from oldest to newest.

Once he had looked through the contents he slipped the pictures back into their envelope and turned back to Ana's pictures, monitoring himself for any outward signs of shock or revulsion.

Finally confident that he could appear impassive, he collected them up and put them back in the wallet, then he placed a webcam conference call to mark and Ben.

Ben was clearly at home when he answered, using his phone's camera judging from the shaky image. Mark was also on his phone, but he appeared to be stepping out of a restaurant. Well, it was Saturday night.

"To what do we own the pleasure?" Mark asked in a slightly cutting tone of voice.

"I need a meeting at your earliest convenience," Tom answered.

Although their calls were encrypted, routed through IP anonymisers and the dark web, they never discussed illegal business over the phone.

"How urgent?" Ben asked.

"Very."

"I'm at dinner with Beth," Mark sounded irritated, then he sighed. "I can probably be at the house for midnight.

"I'll see you both then," Ben replied.

"Thank you." Tom ended the call and returned to the sitting room, only to find that Ana was sleeping. Sitting sideways on the sofa, she was curled into the foetal position, her side and head rested against the back cushions.

Without her makeup and her polished facade, she did look tired. Exhausted in fact, so he wasn't exactly surprised.

In simple jeans and a jumper, she reminded him of when they first dated, except most of the time, unless they were out on a date, her hair had been up, either in a ponytail, or twisted up in a claw grip. He assumed she didn't do that tonight knowing he'd check for a wire, the same reason she probably didn't bring her bag with her and wasn't wearing any jewellery, not even studs in her ears.

Having her here is reminding him of things he didn't usually allow himself to think about. They had dated for two years, he met her in a nightclub towards the end of her first year at Uni and everything had been wonderful. Everything had also been a lie; he couldn't tell her what he really did for a living, but being with her was almost worth living a lie.

Of course, she wasn't stupid, quite the opposite in fact and although he was careful, she kept noticing odd events and putting clues together. After he had spun her a few lies, she had evidently kept her suspicions to herself, until she had a better picture, so he was rather taken aback when she finally confronted him, just before their second anniversary.

She hadn't had the full picture, she thought he worked for a crime ring, she didn't know he ran it, but he had lied and with a little help from his associates, they had limped on for another few months. It was never the same though.

She still didn't confront him when he lied but he could tell by her expression, than she knew.

Then he'd been foolish. He was young and still hot headed.

A band of half arsed thieves thought to attack Mark's former PA, Alison, to find out the location of the corporation's mythical cash stash. The very idea was ludicrous! Please, that was so last century, the bulk of their money was all in off shore bank accounts or invested in legitimate businesses. What little was kept in cash was safely locked in safety deposit boxes, in the middle of the safest buildings in London. At most, they each only a few thousand kept on hand in personal safes.

None the less, the idiots believed the rumours circulating and had tried to torture the information out of the hapless Alison, both physically and sexually. It was only luck that intervened before they could kill her, when a neighbour walking a dog heard a cry and rather than approaching the house, called the police.

Mark had been incensed but careful. Tom had just been incensed and had personally beaten the information they needed from the first thief they managed to find. It seemed fitting to Tom, an eye for an eye, and it was effective; the thug told them everything, but it had left Tom wiith bruised knuckles, despite wearing gloves.

Ana had noticed them (they were living together, how could she not) and when the 'savagely beaten' body of a local boy was discovered two days later, she had put two and two together.

He hadn't even realised she knew what had happened to Alison but on visits to the offices, apparently she had got to know Mark's PA, so when he had rushed away in the middle of the night, and the news the next morning reported that a woman had been 'brutally attacked' in Alison's street, Ana had realised why he left.

He remembered coming home that night and finding her gone, a note explaining that she couldn't stay and telling him not to look for her.

Of course he had looked for her, he had to explain that the thug deserved it and he had found her quite easily, heding for a lecture the next morning, but she didn't give him a chance to explain.

All Ana could see was a 17 year old 'boy' who had been beaten to death by a 'monster'. She hurled so many insults at him that by the time she had calmed down enough that he had a chance to tell her exactly what that so-called boy had done to her friend, he was no longer inclined to. His heart was already broken by her assumptions.

She had got a lot of things wrong though, such as him being a hired thug, a puppet and, a loser with no morals and even less sense.

He had almost enjoyed how frightened she looked as he crowed into her personal space, slowly backing her into the wall.

"I'm no puppet, darling," he had whispered, his lips brushing her ear. "I'm the monster that parents tell their children about, I'm the nightmare you wish you could wake up from but you never will, and when someone in my organisation is hurt, I am death, and vengeance will be mine. That _boy_ deserved everything he got and I'd do it again tomorrow. He and all of his friends died ugly, agonising deaths because they hurt what was mine, darling."

He's pulled back slightly then then, sweetly sweeping the hair that had escaped her twist behind her ears, a gesture he'd done a thousand times out of love, but this time his stone cold smile made the act frightening.

"One word from me and you and your precious sister will be dead by sunset; you would be wise to remember that."

He had placed a sweet kiss on her forehead, then turned to leave, forcing himself not to look back at her, as if she was insignificant; as if she had been nothing more than a mere dalliance.

If she asked now, he could tell her that Alison had received the best care money could buy, then she had received a substantial retirement bonus, despite only being 42 and on top of that, her monthly pension was very generous. They took care of their own. Always. The last he'd heard, Alison had retired to southern Spain, but she still sent Mark regular post cards and without fail, a Christmas card arrived for everyone in the office each year.

He looked over to Ana, wondering if she would listen this time, and hating the fact that he was even considering explaining anything to her.

He checked his watch to see that it wasn't even 10pm yet but he had to get out of here.

He locked the apartment down, left instructions with the doormen not to let anyone up and headed to the basement car park, and his Jaguar. A few miles in this would soon cool his thoughts, as it usually did. He loved his cars. Ana used to call him a petrol head.

Jesus! Why couldn't he get his mind off her?

Probably because she was sleeping on his couch right now. And she'd finally said the words he'd been waiting ten years to hear, 'I'm sorry'.

That didn't magically erase everything though; the hurt, the pain… the loneliness.

Clearly the drive wasn't doing anything to take his mind off Ana.

Ben had been at home and would probably welcome some company, even if he was early. Well, maybe tolerate would be a better word than welcome. Tom had been pissing him off recently, but he only had his mentors interests at heart.

Lately Ben seemed to be backing away from the enterprise slightly and occasionally, Tom had to wonder about his commitment to it.

For a long time, over twenty years, the corporation had replaced his wife, who had been taken cruelly early by cancer. Recently however, there was someone new. The relationship was going slowly and Tom had never even met her, but Ben seemed smitten, even if he was fighting it.

Ben was getting on in years now, he was filthy rich, had partners who could take over, what did he have to stay around for? He didn't like being questioned on his personal life though, and he couldn't see that Tom only wanted what was best for him.

Still, after their last disagreement, when Ben had accused Tom of trying to oust him from the organisation, Tom had sworn to himself that he wouldn't bring this new romance up again, nor make any remarks about Ben's life, outside of work. If the man wanted to be miserable, that was his choice.

He pulled into the driveway of Ben's house in Greenwich, well, it was a mansion really, and entered the code to open the gates.

As he ascended the stairs, Ben was waiting by the door.

"Thomas, my boy, you're early."

He had long since ceased trying to get Ben not to call him a boy, for it was a futile effort.

Tom shrugged. "I couldn't sit still."

"You'd better come in then."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Ben ushered Tom into one of the parlours, where the informal meetings were held.

This house, a former royal residence no less, was the true headquarters of the corporation, where the most sensitive information could he shared freely. While their corporate offices were highly secure, to the majority of their employees, they were a genuine company, so they had to be a little careful what they said. Here they could speak absolutely freely.

"Would you like a drink?" Ben asked.

"Just water, thanks."

"So," Ben said as he handed Tom his drink and sat down. "This is about Ana, no?"

"How did you guess?"

"Well, her turning up at the offices was my first clue," he said with a sardonic smile.

They sat in silence.

"Are you going to make me guess?" Ben finally asked.

"I need permission to kill Damian Wells, second in command over at MI5."

The slight raise of his eyebrows was the only indication of surprise his mentor gave.

"She's in real trouble then?"

"In a manner of speaking."

"Thomas, you know that as long as you're careful and there's no rebound on the organisation, Mark and I will agree."

There was nothing stopping him doing this job alone, but it was a common courtesy among the three that they ask if they were taking out a high profile target. As far as Tom could recall, Wells was the highest profile to date since not only was he well known in governmental circles, he had a whole fucking spying organisation that would investigate his death.

"This isn't trival, Ben, this is M.I. fucking five."

"Yes, and I'm sure you have a very good reason to want him dead." Ben sipped his whisky. "I do wish you'd share your reasons with me however. I assume Ana is involved but I highly doubt she's a terrorist, so why exactly does she need him killed?"

"Her sister is married to him."

"Ah, and murder is easier than divorce."

"Don't be so glib!" Tom snapped, then sighed as he realised that he was taking his frustrations out on the wrong person.

He fished the envelope out of his jacket pocket and handed it to Ben, staying silent as Ben flicked trough the photos.

"This is the sister, I assume?" Ben knew Ana, so the other person had to be her sister.

"He does that to his wife, Amy, on a regular basis. Ana got her away and he beat her too," Tom gestured to the pictures. "Amy gave birth, but Wells found them, and Ana knows she won't leave while Wells has the child."

Ben didn't even need to ask how he had found his wife and child, he was well aware of the value of information, and that was a spying agencies stock in trade.

"So once you've done this, what happens?" Ben asked.

"I thought you'd be more concerned with the logistics," Tom admitted.

"It will be difficult, that's certain, but we can discuss that when Mark gets here. I'll also ask Nicholas to join us, he may well have a device in that lab of his that could help. What really concerns me though, is you. More specifically, how you will deal with Ana when she leaves you again. No one wants a repeat of the last time."

"She's not like before," Tom explained.

"That's not what you told Mark yesterday."

"I was wrong, that was her pride talking."

"Was it?"

Tom sent him a warning glare.

"So what happens once you've ridden in and saved the day?" Ben reiterated

"I don't know," Tom admitted. "She literally turned up at my door this evening, we spoke for maybe half an hour, that's it."

"How do you know that what you saw tonight is real?"

"You saw the pictures."

"I don't mean those, I mean her attitude. She's not an idiot, Thomas, and if her first tactic failed, it stands to reason she'd try something else."

Tom thought of her, standing in his foyer, stripped to her see through underwear and reaching back to remove the bra. Was she cold blooded enough to have faked that vulnerability?

"You didn't see her. I did."

"You could have brought her with you," Ben argued. "We're more impartial than you, after all."

"Look, I'm certain she doesn't mean us any harm."

"I know. She's had plenty of time to tell the authorities about us, and she hasn't."

"How do you know that?" Tom demanded.

"I had her watched for a few years," Ben explained.

"You what? I vouched for her!"

"True, but your judgement couldn't be trusted because you were emotionally involved. For what it's worth, you were right, she's never said a word to anyone."

"Just like I said."

"Indeed." Ben sipped his drink. "I'm not saying you're wrong, Thomas, I'm only asking for caution. I remember how much you cared for her, and how much it hurt to lose her. I'd hate to see you make the same mistake twice."

"I understand."

* * *

><p>Ana awoke to find herself in bed, although it wasn't her own and she was still fully clothed. It took her a few moments to remember what had happened the night before and she guessed that after she had fallen asleep, Tom must have moved her into a guest bedroom.<p>

The door to the en suite bathroom was open and she washed her face and brushed her hair with the toiletries provided, cleaning her teeth with her finger because she didn't want to open one of the new toothbrushes that were available. It seemed incredibly wasteful for just one use.

When she could stall no longer, she made her way to the kitchen, guided by the scent of coffee. She found Tom sitting at the table, reading the paper. His hair was damp from the shower and he was dressed causally; jeans, t-shirt and a cardigan.

"Hi," she said softly.

He looked up but his expression was inscrutable. "Good morning."

"I'm sorry for falling asleep on you last night."

"You clearly needed it," he said. "You slept for thirteen hours."

Her eyes widened in shock.

"Coffee?" he asked.

"Uh, please." She watched as he made her a cup, using a miniature version of the machines you find in coffee houses. He always had been particular about his tea and coffee.

When he had prepared it, white, no sugar, he hadn't needed to ask, he brought the cup to the table and gestured for her to sit.

She sipped the beverage, wondering how to ask if he'd decided to help her. She could feel him watching and kept her gaze averted.

"So, uh," she finally began, when the atmosphere became too tense. "Did I miss anything last night?"

"I've decided to help you, if that's what you mean."

She let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. "Thank you," she said, trying her hardest not to cry.

"Don't thank me yet, you don't know my price."

That quashed her tears. "How much," she asked.

"I don't kill for money," he replied.

"Then why do you kill?" she couldn't stop herself from asking.

"For power."

She met his gaze. "So what is your price?" she asked, wondering if he was going to ask her to throw a court case for him, or perhaps sleep with him (although blackmailing someone for sex didn't really seem to be his style).

"Your loyalty," he answered.

She looked up, surprised by his reply. "You already have it. I haven't told anyone about what you really are, why would I start now?"

"That's your silence. I need more than that."

"I don't know how I can prove that to you," she said honestly.

"Luckily, I do."

"How?"

"You'll see. I'll pick you up at eight this evening. Dress nicely."

"Where are we going?"

"To an establishment of mine. Think ball gown rather than night club."

"Why won't you tell me?" she asked.

"Because you have come to me, asking me to kill one of the most powerful men in this country. If this is going to work, I need you to trust me."

"So this is a test?"

"Of a sort."

She took a deep breath. "Okay. I'll do whatever you want."

He surprised her then as his expression softened. "Don't worry, plans are being made to deal with your brother-in-law, but you have to be patient. Men like that can't just be gunned down, we have to be careful."

"I understand."

He nodded. "If you'll excuse me, I have some calls to return. When you're ready, there's a town car waiting downstairs to take you home."

"Okay." She reached across the table and placed her hand on his. "Thank you."

His expression hardened. "Don't thank me yet. You don't know the price."

And with that, he got up and left het sitting there.

Ana drank her coffee quickly then headed down to the waiting car.

* * *

><p>He took her gambling, of all things, comping her £5,000 in chips from the casino and assuring her that she could pocket anything over and above that at the end of the night. He did own the establishment, so she supposed it wouldn't actually cost him anything, especially since she was bound to lose everything.<p>

She also couldn't concentrate and spent her time wondering how this test worked. She stuck to the blackjack table since she'd played before, although never for money. The rest of the games on offer were a total mystery to her.

She had opted for a blue jersey sheath dress, simple but elegant and it worked in a number of different settings, so she fit right in here. Tom was wearing a charcoal suit and black tie and although simple, it only served to highlight his perfection.

It almost felt like a date, except that while perfectly polite, there was no small talk at all.

Tom was standing behind her, watching her play but remaining silent. She wondered what he was waiting for. Clearly they weren't here so he could enjoy her company, so why were they here? He had said something about her loyalty, but she couldn't see how gambling could prove that.

She thought of her chips as monopoly money, hence being able to gamble hundreds without batting an eye, and she had already lost three thousand; she had won some hands but still lost the majority.

As she was about to break into her last thousand, Tom seemed to get some sort of message on his phone.

"Come on, darling, let's get some refreshment," Tom said as the hand ended.

He didn't wait for a reply but picked her chips, so she grabbed her clutch bag and allowed him to lead her away. His hand was on the small of her back, gently guiding her, much as he used to do when they dated.

Rather than heading for the bar, he led her through a staff door and into an office.

"Take a seat," he said, pouring himself a scotch and her a vodka.

"What are we doing here, Tom?" she asked.

"It's just for a few more minutes," he assured her. "Drink up."

She was so nervous that she quickly consumed the drink, needing some Dutch courage, but Tom's small smile as she finished it unnerved her.

"Another?" he asked.

"No, I'm fine, thanks."

They sat in silence again, perhaps for another ten minutes, until his phone chimed again.

"Okay, they're ready," he said, getting to his feet and buttoning up his jacket.

"Ready for what?" she demanded.

He didn't answer, leaving her to once more trail after him. They took a lift down to the basement, although the button to it was hidden behind a metal panel. If she hadn't seen him unlock it, she wouldn't even have guessed there was a basement. Unlike the rest of the casino, down here it was like stepping into an industrial warehouse, with no windows, flurescent lighting and concrete walls and floor.

She followed him through two corridors and finally into a room with no furniture, save for a single chair in the centre of the room. Tied to the chair was a blindfolded and gagged man, who seemed to have been beaten up, and two thugs were standing guard on either side of the room.

"What are we doing here?" she demanded as Tom closed the door.

He approached a security guard, who after a silent exchange, handed him a pistol and a silencer.

Ana stepped away in shock when he turned back to her and she saw him screwing the silencer onto the gun.

"Tom?" her voice shook with fear as he approached.

He checked the gun clip then too her surprise, he took it by the barrel and handed it to her.

"Tom!" she cried.

"Take it," he ordered, and she did. Things were getting out of control and she realised that she might be able to use the gun to defend herself. She had never even seen a gun in person before, let alone fired one, but it looked simple enough on TV.

"Darling, this is Samuel Jacobs. He owes my casino quite a bit of money, two hundred and fifty thousand at last count, and that's without added penalties. He's been given quite a bit of time and leeway to repay his debts, but he hasn't done so. I don't believe he ever intends to pay, so the loan is being called in, in the form of his life."

Ana could feel the blood draining from her face as he spoke.

"You want me to kill someone for you so in return, you will kill Mr Jacobs for me. And Bernie and Joe here will be witnesses so in the event that your conscience gets the better of you in the future, they can testify against you at your trial."

Her hands were shaking and the tied man was trying to speak, although only muffles noises made it through the gag.

"No." At least she knew what he meant now, about loyalty. "I'm not a murderer."

"Darling, that's exactly what you are. You want to hire me to kill someone; that makes you a murderer. And despite the personal risks, I'm happy to do it for you, darling, all I ask in return, is the same from you."

"I can't."

Her hands were shaking as she held the gun out to him but rather than taking it, he closed his hand around hers on the grip and moved to stand behind her, supporting her arm, although she resisted pointing the gun at the man.

"If it helps, he's a despicable human being who has charges pending for raping his daughters but rather than doing the right thing, admitting his guilt and saving his daughters the pain of testifying against him, he's hoarding his share of the money from his divorce so that he can pay for the best defence money can buy, trying to further harm his daughters by making them out to be liars. He's not fit to breath the same air as they do, but he thinks his life, his happiness, is worth their past and continued pain."

Ana was wavering He did sound evil. She had tried cases herself where women were made to look like liars by the defence team, she had seen the pain and devastation such tactics caused and had watched more than a few evil predators walk away from court, for lack of evidence. She understood why sex crimes were the hardest to convict on; with only two witnesses to a crime, how could a jury say with any authority that one party was right and the other was guilty? Unless one party was beaten bloody, a sure show of defiance, they couldn't, and sexual predators were smart, they knew how to manipulate their victims into remaining silent and even feeling guilty for what was done to them.

Ana began to cry silently.

"Now, darling," Tom's voice was warmer now, almost soothing. "In order for me to save your sister, all I ask is that you wipe this scum from the face of the earth, we'll take care of everything else and this will never come back on you, unless you betray us."

Slowly her resistance was lowering and he was able to move her hand around to point at the man.

"You told me you'd to anything to save them, your sister and your nephew. _Anything_," he reminded her. "So just squeezes the trigger, darling, gently pull back until this is all over. Is this monster's life really worth more than your sister's? If the cost of her and her child living a life free to fear and abuse, is his life, isn't that worth paying? You know there's a good chance he could walk away from court, children don't make reliable witnesses, and then who will his next victim be? Isn't it better to have his death on your conscience, rather than your sister's and his next-"

Suddenly a shot rang out, not loud thanks to the silencer, but she knew she had fired.

"Good girl," Tom crooned as the man screamed through the gag. "You did very well, darling." His lips grazed her ear as he spoke, and he gently took the gun from her hand, which was harder than it looked as her muscles seemed to be frozen.

It took her a few moments to realise that the man wasn't, in fact, dead. Now he was panting and struggling against his bonds, but there was no new blood on him.

"It wasn't real," Ana realised.

"The gun was real, the bullets were blanks," he continued to speak softly to her, as if he was afraid she might become hysterical. "You did very well, darling, and it's over now."

He stepped away from her, passing the gun back to the man introduced as Joe, then he stepped closer to the captive, leaning over to his hands rested on the other man's wrists. The grimace he made was proof that the gesture was designed to cause pain.

"Now, Mr Jacobs, this is your final warning. Pay what you owe, including the late fees, by 5pm tomorrow, or next time the bullets will be real, and your death won't be quick."

He stood up and turned to Joe. "Crack two of his ribs before you send him home, I don't want him to have any doubts about how serious I am."

The thug nodded and Ana found herself being led from the room by Tom. She allowed him to guide her back to his office and she sat meekly on one of the sofas, while Tom made her a large vodka on the rocks.

"This will help," he said as he handed it to her, and she saw that her hand was shaking as she accepted the beverage.

"Why did you do that?" she asked, sitting folded in on herself, with her shoulders hunched and her arms tucked closely into her side.

"Two reasons," he explained. "The plan we have might require your help and I needed to be sure you had the strength to do what's necessary. Secondly," his voice became much cooler. "I needed you to know that you and I really aren't so different. Under the right circumstances, anyone can become a killer, even you."

Ana's whole body seemed to be shivering now and she was surprised when Tom removed his jacket and draped it over her shoulders.

"I'll leave you alone for a while, give you a chance to collect yourself," he told her. "Help yourself to vodka and come find me in the casino when you're ready to go."

And he walked out.

Ana kept playing the scene with Samuel Jacobs over and over in her head, like a DVD scene on repeat. She slipped her arms into the sleeves of his jacket, then helped herself to two more vodkas before they finally seemed to sooth her nerves but by then, she had imbibed so much, so quickly, that she was drunk.

She didn't care. Being insensible was better that knowing the truth, that she had nearly killed a man, that she had intended to kill him, and worse still, she wasn't sure if she would make a different choice if she were in the same situation again.

She poured another drink, her third? No, fifth? Aah well, it didn't much matter anyway, it wasn't like she was using a measure to pour her drinks, and she was sure they were all triples, at least.

When Tom finally returned, she was passed out on the sofa.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Ana awoke to a thumping headache and once more, in a strange bed. This morning she opened a spare toothbrush, needing to scrub the ashy taste from her mouth. As she bent to the faucet, intending to clamp her mouth around the tap to drink (yeah, she was real classy this morning) she realised she still had Tom's suit jacket on, and her dress from last night.

Was there anything worse than doing the walk of shame when you hadn't even had fun the night before?

And with that thought, came the memories of last night, the memories of what she was willing to do.

She turned away from the mirror before she could look at her own reflection, she had a feeling that she was so ashamed she couldn't meet her own gaze, but her head hurt too much for her to dare try and test that theory.

As she entered the kitchen, Tom simply observed her for a moment, then got up and went to the coffee machine. She sat down at the table and moments later, Tom placed a coffee in front of her, along with two tablets.

"Just ibuprofen," he assured her as he sat opposite.

She sipped her coffee in silence, feeling rather numb.

"I'll drive you home when you're ready," Tom assured her.

She considered saying that she'd catch a cab but she couldn't find the energy to argue.

She took the pills then continued to sip her coffee in silence.

"Are you okay?" Tom finally asked.

Ana shrugged in reply.

"Talk to me," he urged and she finally looked into his eyes.

"I feel numb, to be honest."

"Numb is good. Normal. You'll probably experience a range of emotions over the next few weeks, sometimes slipping between extremes at the drop of a hat. You'll feel like you're going crazy, but that's normal."

"I nearly killed a man last night, Tom, that is _not_ normal."

"An evil man," he reminded her. "You did what had to be done and the world would be a better place without him."

She glared at him. "This isn't about him, it's about me."

Tom flashed her a wolfish smile. "Oh yes, I know, darling. Last night, you discovered exactly how ruthless you can be, and that doesn't quite match with the self-image you used to have, does it? Don't worry, you'll adjust to this new reality soon enough and believe it or not, be happy."

"How?" Ana demanded, her earlier lethargy giving way to anger. "You say that like it's nothing! He might have been evil but he was human, and human life has value, for fuck's sake! I don't even believe in the death penalty!"

"That's where you're wrong. Human life has no inherent value. Society creates a veil of civility, filling our heads with quaint notions of life being precious, but it's anything but. Given your career, you of all people, should know that. Anyone, at any time, can take our lives from us, often for no greater purpose than because they'd had too much to drink and picked a fight, or because they enjoy other's pain and it helps them get their rocks off, or because they want to steal your iPhone. If that's not enough, life is so fragile that a simple accident can steal it from us at a moment's notice. Natural disasters, animal attacks, illness… Do you have any idea how many people die each year, just slipping on ice? Life is short and it's hard and only the fittest survive. You just joined the ranks of the predators, darling. Congratulations," he gave her a cold smile.

"I want to go home!" She declared, standing up, her arms folded over her chest.

"Of course." He suddenly sounded solicitous. "Come on."

As they left the apartment, he picked up her clutch bag and mobile phone, which he handed it to her.

"While you were sleeping, I took the liberty of programming my number into your phone. I hope you don't mind." His tone said that he didn't care if she minded.

She accepted the phone without question, slipping it into her bag. She didn't reply though.

Silently they headed into the lift and down to the basement, where his white jag waited.

The trip to her home was silent and neither one spoke until they reached her building. Ana opened her door but Tom stopped her leaving by placing a hand in her forearm.

"I'm sorry. What I said was the truth but I should have found a kinder way to say it."

Ana didn't answer.

"You won't find many people who understand what you're going through so if you want to talk, call me."

She nodded because it was the quickest way to get away, but she knew she wouldn't call him. He was the reason she felt this awful, after all, so she wasn't about to go running to him for help. Not that she'd need help, she would be just fine on her own. She always had been, she always would be.

* * *

><p>Tom felt like an idiot as he drove home but the chance to make her realise that she was no better than him had been hard to resist. The test had been necessary, but he couldn't risk telling Ana that yet, however the talk from this morning had been indulgent.<p>

Throughout the next week, he wavered from feeling justified in his words, to feeling like a bastard for not being there for her afterwards. He picked the phone up on a dozen or more occasions to call her, but he always changed his mind.

It was Wednesday afternoon, a week and a half after he had last seen her, when his PA knocked on his door and entered his office.

"Denise?" he asked as she closed the door.

"Mr Kingsley asked me to let you know that he requests a meeting this evening at eight pm, but he wondered if you would come half an hour early. He'd like to discuss something with you."

Tom took a moment to make sure he had no plans. "Tell him, that's fine."

"Of course, Sir." She left and Tom wondered what exactly Ben wanted. He hoped that the meeting was regarding Damian Wells demise but somehow he doubted that the plan was ready to be put into action just yet.

Despite having her watched, he didn't know how Ana was doing yet and it was quite possible that she wouldn't be ready to fulfil her side of the bargain. The people following her reported that she seemed to be behaving normally, outwardly calm, but Tom knew she was a good actress and had learned to hide her pain early on in life, so appearances were no real indication of how she was doing.

He picked up the phone to call her, then hung up again.

* * *

><p>"Ana, my dear," Ben said as his friends former love answered her door.<p>

"Do I know you?"

"It's been a while, I admit." He smiled warmly at her. "I'm Benjamin Kinglsey, one of Thomas's business partners. We met at a Christmas party, and on a few of your visits to the offices. "

Her face blanched of all colour.

"I'm not here to hurt you, I only wish to talk."

Ana took a deep breath and opened the door to allow him to enter her apartment.

"What can I do for you?" she asked as she followed him into her living room. She didn't offer him a drink or a seat.

"First of all, I want to apologise for what happened at the casino last Saturday. Terrible business, truly, but it had to be done."

She crossed her arms over her chest and nodded.

"Secondly, I wanted to show you this." He pulled a folded sheet of newspaper from the inside pocket of his overcoat and handed it to her, the page was folded so that the article he wanted her to see was on top.

_'__Charring Cross father admits to abusing his daughters'_ the headline read.

_'__The man, who cannot be named to protect his children's identities, pled guilty in court today, to five counts of rape, two counts on incest and seven counts of indecent assault of a minor. He was remanded in custody while he awaits sentencing, which will be on the…'_

"Is it him?" she demanded, her eyes quickly scanning the rest of the article, which went into a little more detail about his crimes and how his children and their mother finally reported him to the police.

"It is."

She looked doubtful.

"I have no reason to lie about this, especially since one call from you to the prosecution barrister will either confirm or deny that fact."

She could easily find out, so lying would be pointless, she conceded.

"So what are you here?"

"Because I wanted you to see, with your own eyes, that Tom was telling you the truth. Had you killed Mr Jacobs, you would have done the world a favour. As it is, taking his money meant that he could no longer afford a top defence and had to accept a legal aid lawyer who, given the amount of evidence against him, obviously advised him to take a guilty plea in return for leniency."

Ana still didn't know how she felt about almost killing him.

"What do you expect me to do about this?" she asked.

"I don't expect you to do anything. This is just a pleasantry to try and put your mind at rest. What I'm really here for, it to talk to you about Thomas."

"What is there to say?"

"Quite a lot, actually. May I sit down?"

She eyed him silently for a few moments. "You aren't going to leave until you've had your say, are you?"

"No," he assured her, pleased that she was perceptive.

"Then you'd better take a seat."

They sat on different branches of her L-shapes sofa.

"I know you may find this hard to believe, but Thomas is very fond of you. Truth be told, I don't think he ever stopped loving you."

"He could have fooled me."

"He's still hurt, my dear, and hurt often manifests as anger and hatred. If he had no feelings for you, he would be indifferent to you."

"He made me try to kill someone, just so he could show me how like him I am. You don't do that to someone you care about."

"I care about Thomas, and I made him murder someone. Unlike Thomas's scenario for you, he actually had to kill someone. I made him do it so that he would recognise his true strength."

"That's sick," she told him.

"Is it? Do they not teach soldiers how to kill? And many countries teach their police force to shoot to kill, rather than simply wound. Is that also sick?"

"Those people kill to protect something."

"Quite true," Ben nodded. "And we don't kill for kicks either, we kill only to protect what is ours, and even then, it is a last resort."

Ana looked away.

"There's a certain strength that comes from knowing that you can take a life. It may not be something you enjoy, in fact, I would hope it isn't, but it sometimes is a necessity. If you were to be confronted tomorrow by an armed mugger, you would face him with the knowledge that you can kill and that of the two of you, you are very likely the most lethal one, willing to cross that line to protect your life. That kind of knowledge is a gift really."

"There has to be a better way," she insisted. "He could have… done something else."

"Perhaps, but he did that scenario at my suggestion. He actually agreed with you. I was willing to wipe out the debt and see you end that scum, but Tom insisted that you didn't need to actually kill in order to find out if you could. Perhaps rather than maligning him, you should thank him, because he managed to teach you an object lesson without getting blood on your hands."

"I didn't need to learn that lesson."

"Actually, you did."

"Why?" she demanded.

"Just a contingency plan. Hopefully we won't need it, so there's no need to worry yourself over it yet, my dear."

"Tell me."

"No." Ben's congenial, grandfatherly demeanour dropped and for a second, he allowed her to see the shark beneath. Then his friendly smile returned. "Now, my dear, I realise that this world is still new and shocking, but I actually came here to make an offer to you."

"Oh?"

"I would like you to come on board."

Her eyes widened in shock. "Join you!?"

"Yes, in a manner of speaking. You would not be required to participate any more than you are comfortable with and once your brother-in-law is dead, you can walk away, if that is what you so desire."

"I can't believe you would trust me to do that."

"Aah, but I do. You see, I believe that you are also still in love with Thomas, which is why you have never tried to tell the authorities about him before. If I'm right, you will not betray us now."

"What if you're wrong?"

"I will have you killed. Please rest assured however, I have no wish to see you dead, if only for the pain it would cause Thomas, so that would be a last resort."

"I'm not doing it."

Ben nodded his understanding. "I realise this is a lot to ask, but surely you must see that our organisation is not going anywhere so if you wish to make the world a better place, and I can only assume that you do, given your career, then the best way to do that, is from the inside."

"If you can't beat them, join them?" she asked.

"Essentially," he smiled.

"I already have a job."

"I realise that, and I'm not suggesting you leave. We can handle the day to day enterprise between us. I only ask that you attend the private meetings, the ones where we discuss our less legal activities."

"Why?"

"I'm attempting to bridge the gap between you and Thomas. I would have thought that was obvious."

"So I have to change and break the law and become a murder, rather than him becoming a law abiding citizen?"

"My dear girl, you make it sound like Thomas corrupted you. I hate to break it to you, but you came to him, begging him to murder for _you_. You may not have to pull the trigger, but the moment you solicited someone to do the deed, you broke the law. Once it is complete, you will be a murderer in the eyes of the law, regardless of who actually commits the deed."

He could tell that his words had hit home by her wretched expression.

"Forgive me if I'm talking out of turn here, my dear, but it seems to me that both you and Thomas still have feelings for each other. I'm simply offering you the opportunity to see for yourself if his job is something you can live with or not. Don't you owe it to yourself to find out?"

"Why do you care?" she demanded.

"Because I care about Thomas and I feel a sense of responsibility for him, and life is short and hard, my dear, so if we have a chance at happiness, we must grasp it with both hands."

"I can't believe I'm getting dating advice from a gangster," she muttered.

"Yes," he said with a wry smile. "I can see how surreal this situation must seem from your perspective."

He surprised her then by standing up and fishing a card from his pocket.

"We're meeting here at eight PM this evening. If you decide to join us, show this card to the security guard on the gate and he will let you in." he held the card out to her and after a brief hesitation, she accepted it. He smiled and she made to get up and show him out. "No, no, I can see myself out. I do hope we'll see you later."

And with that, he left.

Ana curled up on the couch and wondered if she was brave enough to take him up on the offer.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Tom could guess why Ben wanted to see him, and he was proved right once they were sitting in the parlour once more, both drinking only water as they had decisions to make later.

"I wanted to speak to you about Ana," was Ben's opening gambit.

"I've been monitoring her via the spyware we put on her phone, she hasn't spoken to anyone about us. The people watching her say she's moody but she's coping. She isn't a threat."

"I know. I was thinking more of your personal relationship with her."

Tom sighed. This was exactly what he was hoping to avoid.

"My personal life has no bearing on the organisation."

"No, but it has a bearing on you."

Tom opened his mouth to reply but Ben cut him off.

"Please, just hear me out, that's all I ask."

Tom considered him for a moment, then decided that this would be over faster if he just acquiesced.

"I believe you met my late wife, Margaret, on two occasions, did you not?"

Tom nodded that had, but he had been too young for her to really make an impact on him. He remembered she was pretty, elegant and graceful. She reminded him of Princess Grace in her manner and style, if not in her looks.

"As you probably know, I adored her, and I was devastated when she died. What you probably do not know, is that she betrayed me early on in our marriage."

Tom was shocked by that and it showed in his expression.

"I met her while she was still at school," Ben continued. "She was 16, I was 20, and I was all she had ever known. With the women's liberation movement, birth control becoming available, she began to feel as if she had missed out on something, and then we discovered that we couldn't have children. She became very restless. Two years after that fateful fertility diagnosis, she came to me in floods of tears and confessed that she had got drunk and slept with someone else."

Tom tried not to let too much surprised show. "What did you do?"

"What would any man do? I left, walked out on her. My pride was wounded, which I think was actually more important to me than my hurt feelings." He said with a wry smile.

"But you got back together?" Tom prompted, interested to hear the rest.

"Eventually. It took several months for her to talk me around but eventually I decided to try again, if only so that she could finally see for herself that it was over, that our relationship was dead, only a funny thing happened. Her mistake actually made her appreciate me and what we had more. She had spent all that time feeling as if she was missing out on something and when she realised that different isn't necessarily better, she stopped chaffing at the bit and realised what she risked losing.

"Of course, I in my anger nearly drove her away again but luckily, before I pushed her too far away, I had to travel to Japan to broker a deal there. The gentleman I was meeting with served me tea in a repaired teapot, the cracks having been filled in with gold resin. I asked why he didn't just buy a new one, of course, and he explained the concept of kintsugi. They believe that when something is broken and repaired, it becomes stronger and more valuable, as signs of damage reflect the use of an object. The repairs are made using gold to highlight the damage as they believe it adds to an objects beauty.

"Suddenly I realised that everything my wife had been saying, about realising her mistake and never taking me for granted again, was true and if I could only find a way to forgive her, we might even emerge stronger for it, appreciating our marriage and each other all the more because it was almost lost to us."

"You're saying I need to forgive Ana?"

"I'm saying, that you owe it to yourself to try. Perhaps the damage done is too extensive to be repaired, that's something only you can know, but if you don't try, you'll always wonder and as long as you're unsure, you'll never truly be happy with anyone else."

"You make it sound so easy," Tom noted.

"No, it's not easy, but it is worth it. If there's one thing life has taught me, it's that happiness is usually short lived and fleeting, so must be grabbed with both hands when the opportunity arises."

Tom nodded. "I don't know if you believe me, but that's actually the same reason I was pressing you to spend more time with your new lady friend. 20 years is long enough to grieve."

"I understand, I just wasn't ready to hear it." Ben gave him a small smile. "But if you promise to try and forgive Ana, I promise to seriously consider my future, and if I want June to be a part of it."

"That's a pretty name."

"Isn't it." Ben smiled wistfully.

* * *

><p>Ana repressed a shudder as she walked to the front door of the large house. Her knock was answered by a butler, complete with white gloves, like something out of Downton Abbey.<p>

"You're expected," he told her. "If you'll follow me."

Despite the pang of fear, that she might be being led to a trap, she followed nonetheless, and was led into a parlour, where the Butler announced her to Ben and Tom. The only indication of Tom gave of surprise, was a slight raise in his right eyebrow.

"Ana, my dear," Ben got up to welcome her. "I'm glad you decided to come."

She smiled, or at least she tried to.

"How about a drink?" he asked.

"I'm fine, thank you."

"Are you sure? It's no trouble. We have water, some sodas, wine, spirits or tea."

"Just water, please."

"Very well." Ben nodded the butler, who went to fetch it, while Ben guided her over to the seating.

The doorbell sounded and Ben smiled. "That will be Mark, I'll go and meet him."

Left alone, Tom and Ana eyed each other for a few moments.

"I'm surprised to see you here," he said.

"Yes, well, Ben came to see me and suggested I learn a little about how your organisation works."

"And you said yes?" His tone was indecipherable.

Ana shrugged. "Why not?"

With Ben's words still ringing in his ears, he leaned forward.

"How have you been?"

"Okay." She answered too quickly.

"Don't lie to me."

Her head shot up and she glared at him. "That's rich, coming from you."

Recognising a defence mechanism, he didn't rise to the bait.

"Doesn't stop me caring."

"You are the reason anything's wrong with me! Why did you make me do that!" she yelled, losing her composure slightly.

"Because the plan we have for Wells might require you to deliver the fatal blow," he answered smoothly. "I had to be sure you had it in you."

"What?" her eyes grew wide.

"We can't just shoot him or stab him, he's too high profile. His death must look like an accident but when staging something like that, there are too many variables to guarantee death. We have to have backup plans, and you, as his relative and therefore allowed access to his hospital room, are one of them."

He could practically see her brain working to process that information

"I am sorry, I should have told you," he said with sincerity.

She looked into his eyes for a moment, as if gauging the truth. When she could detect no lie, she tried to let go of her anger, which had mainly been directed at herself.

"No, I deserved your taunts, I was being a hypocrite."

"And how are you, really?"

She shrugged. "All over the place. One minute I'm okay, the next I'm full of rage, the next fear, then I'm crying for no reason. I'm not eating much and sleep is fitful, at best."

"It will pass," he assured her. "In the meantime, we have a sympathetic doctor who would be happy to prescribe sleeping pills, at least for a while. Everything looks worse when you're tired."

She nodded, not sure if she wanted that or not.

The butler entered then.

"Mr Kingsley and Mr Strong are awaiting you in the boardroom."

Tom nodded, dismissing him, and led Ana from the room.

"We're going over the final plan tonight, so rest assured, your sister will be safe soon."

"Thank you."

Tom opened the door for her and followed her inside.

Once everyone was seated, Ben began the meeting. The table could seat eight and Ben sat on the end, Mark to one side and Tom and Ana took a seat opposite Mark.

"Our first order of business is the Albanians," Ben began. "They're back."

Ana watched as Tom's expression hardened.

"That explains why our escort business has dropped slightly," Mark replied. "Do we know where?"

"They're operating out of a large house in Camden."

"Must have thought going for a nicer area would keep them off our radar," Mark mused. "Shall I send an informant to Scotland Yard again?"

"No," Tom entered the conversation. "We warned them and they chose to ignore it. I say we kill them then call the police so they can go in and get the girls out."

Ana realised they must be discussing sex trafficking.

"Others will only take their place," Ben reasoned.

"Then we'll kill them too," Tom insisted. "We don't allow slavery and it seems as though we have to reinforce that message, and we'll keep reinforcing it until they realise that London is hostile to them and keep away."

"If you have escorts, what's the difference?" Ana dared to ask.

"The difference, my dear," Ben answered before Tom could. "Is the difference between Hollywood madam, Heidi Fleiss, and women being raped repeatedly for someone else's profit. We allow, even welcome the former, as it is a simple exchange of services for payment. The latter is inhuman and where we discover it, we put an end to it."

"How very humanitarian of you."

"Perhaps," Mark laughed. "But it's also good business sense. Anyone who can get a fuck for £50 will take that over one of our girls."

"You pimp prostitutes?"

"Not at all," Ben answered. "We offer our protection to those who do and, providing they agree to abide by our conditions, we protect their girls. Mostly this is enough but on the occasions where one is harmed, we take retribution on the girl's behalf."

"So are we agreed?" Tom said, not wanting to discuss it any further. "We take the Albanians down?"

The other men nodded.

"I'll have Marcus take care of it," Ben said. "Next we have the Chinese." He turned to Tom to continue.

"They want to negotiate their contracts," he explained.

"What are their terms?" Mark asked.

"They want a 3% drop in commission in exchange for an increase of ten in turnover. I've done the maths, we'd be marginally better off but it isn't worth it for the additional work."

The men considered this for a moment.

"I suggest we counter with a drop of 1.5 then settle on 2, which will give us an additional two million. If they are unable to meet their own targets however, we impose an increase of 2% on our original rate."

"Agreed," Mark and Ben answered in unison.

Ana was left wondering what they were doing that could increase profits by two million. Was that pounds? Yen? Dollars?

"How is the resort coming along?" Ben asked Mark.

"Everything is going to plan, we broke ground last month and we should be able to funnel 500 million through there by the time the complex is completed. The casino will also add a permanent revenue stream for our funds. I'm heading out there next month to check on progress and to scout out other locations."

"Isn't it a little soon for that?" Ben asked.

"Well, with the Chinese increasing their revenue, we need additional ways to launder substantial amounts of money, and it pays to be ahead of the game."

The other men nodded their understanding.

"And that brings us to the final matter of the evening, Mr Wells." Ben smiled at Ana. "I've asked Mr Hoult to attend and he will explain the details of his plan to us all."

Ben pressed a button on the table and seconds later, a door opened and a bespectacled young man entered.

"Nicholas," Ben smiled at him. "Glad you could join us."

"Thank you, Sir."

"Nicholas is our resident genius," Ben explained to Ana. "The floor is yours, young man."

He spent a few moments hooking a tablet up to a large screen at the opposite end of the table, and began a power point presentation, which started with a car, revolving on a stand, such as you might see at a car show.

"Wells drives a Lexus, which has an impeccable safety rating, although it is slightly weaker in front, rear and rollover collisions. Bearing this in mind," the image shifted to a map with a road highlighted. "I've studied the route he takes to and from his country home each Friday night. Here," he pointed to where a ring appeared, "Is our best chance to cause a fatal accident, as right over that bend is a drop of 69 feet, or 21 meters."

"And how do you intend to get him over that drop?" Tom asked.

The image changed to a computer generated scene of a car driving.

"We've studied his average speed ratings from his GPS device and he always takes this corner faster than he should. Familiarity breeds contempt, they say, and if we blow the front right tyre at this point, the car will lurch to the right and with the momentum of the car, there is no way he'll be able to prevent himself going through the crash barrier and over the edge. Just in case, we'll be staging an accident there the day before, which will badly damage the barriers, weakening them so that Wells is guaranteed to go through them. We'll remove the cones and tape, make it appear as if children from the closest village took them."

"And how will we blow his tyre without being discovered?" Mark asked.

"Laser," He replied with a smile. "Bullets would leave evidence but a laser will simply slice through the tyre, and the damage will probably be blamed on the collision."

"But anyone behind will see the laser," Ana argued.

"Not true. Lasers on television and movies have been added in post production. In reality, the light beam of a laser is not visible until it hits something." To demonstrate, he got a laser pointes out of his pocket and aimed it at the wall. "As you can see, the beam is indivisible until it hits the wall and the light is scattered." He turned it off and slipped it back into his pocket.

"How long will it take to set this up?" Mark asked.

"I'm still building the laser, then I'll have to test it in the lab and in the field. I believe the soonest we could do this is in six day's time, but I would prefer eight, just to be certain that everything will go without a hitch."

"That will fit nicely with him returning home Friday week," Ben said. "Which gives you nine days."

"Yes, Sir," Nicholas nodded.

"And what of his injuries?" Tom asked.

The image on screen changed again, to show the car going over the cliff.

"The vehicle should go through one complete rotation, landing on the nose and roof, causing massive head injuries due to the momentum it had and will gain in the fall. I expect the accident will severely injure him but I cannot guarantee death."

"And what is our plan then?" Ben asked.

"We have two options, the first is the riskiest." He opened a small box and removed a tubular shaped device, about the size of a kitchen roll tube but slightly thicker. "This emits ultrasonic sound waves, 3.4 megahertz to be exact, and if aimed at the heart for 90 to 120 seconds, will disrupt the normal heartbeat and cause a heart attack. Now we can leave someone at the site to attend to Wells but if anyone is following, sees the accident and stops, they may well view our man, even from a distance. Add to that the fact that he could die from his injuries naturally, it seems overly risky."

"How likely is the accident to cause death?" Tom asked.

"There are many variables but as close as I can tell, there's an 83 percent probability that the accident will be fatal."

"And if he does survive, what's the second option?" Mark asked.

"He will need hospital attention and once he's been detached from a heart monitor, we enact the same plan. It will look as if he has just some to sleep until the nurse's check on him. Even then, they might not try and wake him, they believe sleep is good for recovery. You must make sure he isn't on a pulse monitor though, because if the staff get to him within a few minutes, they might be able to revive him"

"What will an autopsy show?" Tom asked.

"Nothing abnormal. They will most likely conclude that his sinoatrial node was damaged in the crash, causing an irregular rhythm to developed that wasn't picked up. There won't be any bruising because we're only interfering with the beat of the heart, not causing trauma to stop it."

"But won't people hear the device?" Ana had to ask.

"No. Human hearing is between 20 to 20,000 hertz. This has a frequency of 3.4 million hertz. No one will hear a thing."

"Will it harm the user?" Tom asked.

"No, the sound waves are directional."

"I say we go with the first option," Tom said. "Get it over with at the crash site."

"I strongly disagree," Mark argued. "If there is any hint of suspicion, MI5 will be all over this, and we can't afford that."

"Mark is right, Tom. If there is anything even slightly suspect, there will be an investigation. Our organisation is well protected but not if we come to the attention of MI5, they have new powers now, the terrorism laws mean they don't need court orders and trials any more, so we have to treat them with the utmost respect."

"But-"

"Will he be able to fight back?" Ana interrupted him, directing her question to Nicholas.

"Only a little. Palpitations will begin almost instantly and it's hard to fight when your blood isn't pumping properly. He may scratch you, nothing worse. He will pass out before the two minutes are up and the more he struggles, the faster he will pass out. Even if he's unconscious, you must hold it there for the full two minutes to insure the heart stops completely."

"We're not killing him in the hospital." Tom asserted. "Maybe we can bribe a paramedic."

"That only adds an extra layer of complications to an already overly complex plan," Ben said reasonably.

"But-"

"No, Tom." Ana put her hand over his. "He's right, you can't risk your organisation for this. If he does survive, I'll take that doohicky-"

"It's an ultrasonic disruption device," Nicholas asserted.

"-and go visit Damian in the hospital," Ana finished.

"Ana-"

"No, Tom, I can do this. I'm also… kind of… looking forward to seeing the light go out in his eyes. I want him to know that I beat him."

"Ana?" he turned to her.

"I _can_ do this, Tom. Thanks to you, I know that now."

His eyes searched her face as he turned to her, but she didn't know what he was looking for.

"You'll be a murderer."

"The moment he dies, I'm already a murderer, whether I pull the trigger or not." She swivelled her chair to face his.

"But-"

She placed a finger over his lips, much as she used to when they dated. The intimacy of such a gesture suggested that both had forgotten about the other three men in the room.

"No 'but's, this is happening."

"Well, I think that concludes this evening's business," Ben interrupted their moment. "I won't ask you to say for dinner, Thomas, I think you and Miss Sheridan have matters you need to discuss, so perhaps you should adjourn to your apartment."

Tom looked over and acknowledged him with a nod.


End file.
